


Doorwing'd

by Ending_To_Begin



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jazz is Jazz, M/M, Past Relationship(s), lots of medbay visits, maybe eventual smut??? i don't know, prowl is a jerk, prowl is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ending_To_Begin/pseuds/Ending_To_Begin
Summary: Prowl is a Jerk, but he's also the resident strategist and the very best. Despite that, he is also an idiot who neglects to take care of the things most important in life... like himself. Jazz might just be able to do something about that.





	1. Working too much

**Author's Note:**

> Some quick notes-
> 
> There's no specific verse for this, whatever universe you believe it to be in, it is. The focus is Prowl/Jazz no matter what.  
> My personal idea came from G1, but really, whatever you want/whatever fits.
> 
> There are likely some (maybe a lot of) OOC moments and I apologize.
> 
> Jazz has buko upgrades being a saboteur and doorwings that are hidden in a subspace pocket. End of discussion.
> 
> Prowl has an office as well as his position as Optimus' second in command on the bridge of the ship/in the command room/on the battlefield. Prowl is one of only a few Autobots with an office (such as Ratchet and Optimus) because working out of one's room is unhealthy and a little invasive (and Prowl needs a space he can hold private meetings, being the strategist and all).
> 
> And finally... A personal headcanon that really has no merit whatsoever- Prowl's got weak eyes that could possibly be corrected with a trip Ratchet (or a visor) if he would ever agree to such a thing.

Prowl was arched uncomfortably over his desk, grimacing at the datapad in his servo. He had been looking over reports and plans for groons, reading each misplaced line of code and rows upon rows of clumsy formatting with growing irritation. Had he not hunched over in his chair to such an awkward angle, he was certain he would have crushed the tiny device with his digits long ago.

He needed to do something _anything_ to keep his servos from gripping too tightly and to maintain focus on his work, and that was the solution he came up with.

It hurt, activating his repair system now and again to send coolant to the areas that were pinching too tightly together, but it didn't cause any actual damage. It was a relief really, something he wanted to focus on _less_ than botched and careless reports, so he did it whenever there was a particularly rough patch.

Ratchet hated the practice, having told Prowl time and time again that it was hard on his gears to twist himself into knots. It made him more brittle than need be, but Ratchet's proposed alternatives (such as setting his work down for a few kliks now and then and finding a hobby to have during his downtime) just weren't feasible for Prowl. Such things were impractical to him as well. A luxury that was entirely unnecessary.

He achieved what he did by working nonstop; cutting into his personal time and even losing a few cycles of recharge to prevent backlogs. Plans did not get devised and smoothed over in mere astroseconds, nor did reports magically edit or reformat themselves. It was all set in Prowl's servos. He was the one assigned to these tasks, so he completed them no matter what strain it put on his processor or his frame. That's the way it was going to stay too until-

Something slid along the pane of one of Prowl's doorwings and immediately the autobot's train of thought scattered.

His optics offlined as his defense systems activated, doorwings flaring to try and pick up what it was that had caused the sensation.

Unable to sense anything out of the ordinary, Prowl lifted his head and forcibly onlined his optics to try and get a visual in his dimmly lit office. Nothing was forthcoming or out of place, so he glanced to the ceiling, wondering if a battle had sprung out above him and had shaken some of the structure loose. When he saw that his ceiling was, in fact, in immaculate condition, Prowl flexed his wings a few times and shook off the sensation. Nothing more than a fluke, a glitch in his processor from working too long. Stress was known to sometimes activate defenses when they weren't necessary...

Making a mental note to see Ratchet about that sometime in the near future, Prowl flared his doorwings- allowing the sensors to reach maximum sensitivity- one final time to be sure there was nothing in front of or behind him. Once they finished their sweep, he was satisfied to return his optics to his glowing datapad.

Being a Praxian, he relied heavily on his doorwings to interpret the world around him. Like most of his fellow models, eyes rarely needed to be on his target to pinpoint and hit it whenever he was in a perilous situation. Rarer still did optics need to be used to determine if a threat was nearby.

Letting out a quiet vent, Prowl allowed his defense systems to slowly shut down. Perhaps being in such an uncomfortable position _was_ getting to him.

Prowl found where he had left off easily enough and once again began to edit the choppy code as he went along. He was determined to finish at least one more report before going for some energon. He wasn't running _that_ low on energy, but his internal sensors would start protesting soon, and the little alarm that went off when they did was too aggravating even for him to work through.

The thought of asking Ratchet to disable the sound, if not the entire energy warning system, was tempting...  However, knowing Ratchet, he would just suggest to (or just go ahead and) make them louder.

Irritated once more and realizing he was losing focus, Prowl twisted a bit further, pinching the cables at his waist. Oo that smarted, but it worked... That is until something slid down the pane of glass on his doorwing in the same spot he had felt it astroseconds earlier.

Doorwings flaring and defensive systems revving into overdrive, Prowl whirled his chair around and-

subsequently fell out of it.

Prowl yelped loudly as his oversensitive wings connected with the floor.

They felt the impact all too clearly and yet had somehow managed to miss an entire autobot.

As much as the pain annoyed Prowl, throwing himself to the floor had been a last minute ditch to ensure he didn't lay a servo on the mech across from him. Knowing Jazz, he would lose an arm long before he could deal any damage himself... And Prowl really didn't have the desire to visit the medbay on account of accidently lashing out at a special-ops transformer. Especially not the one Prowl had known the longest and knew had the most extensive training.

Although...

"Fragging PIT Jazz! When did-"

Jazz interrupted Prowl with a boisterous laugh, causing the latter to scowl at his black and white guest.

"Jeez man," Jazz howled in amusement, "you need t' light'n up, an' maybe pay a bit more attention t' your surroundin's!"

When compared to the quiet state his office had previously been in, Jazz was far too loud. The mech's voice grated uncomfortably against Prowl's audio, only adding to his irritation.

"Pay attention to my surroundings?" Prowl found himself snarling at the slightly smaller Autobot, datapad effectively crushed beneath his digits. "You do realize my doorwings' sensitivity is-"

Another obnoxiously loud laugh cut Prowl off, and he had to press his wings harder to the floor to prevent from launching himself at Jazz's seemingly prone frame.

If he didn't know better, Prowl would have guessed Jazz was messing with him on purpose, just trying to see how many reactions he could pull from the normally patient Praxian.

"Ah, doorwings!"

Jazz's tone wasn't helping Prowl's suspicions...

"Useful, but not what I impli'd ma main man! They're kinda nice, but not a match for any sort o' stealth mod, ya know? A lil useless in that department, if ya know what I mean."

Prowl felt his faceplate begin to heat and turned his head away. Denta dug into glossa to prevent any forthcoming retort.

Jazz was right and Prowl knew it. Anything he said otherwise would only sound misinformed and misplaced... But the comment still stung.

Lifting himself from the floor, Prowl regained some of his regular composure, though he still did not return his gaze to the other bot. He desperately wanted to because without a visual Jazz was lost to him, but the _last_ thing Prowl wanted was to see the smug grin on his comrad's face. Looking at the other mech would only prove Jazz's point in how useless Prowl's doorwings were around him. The fact alone was annoying enough, he didn't need the extra rivit to the crypt.

"So," Prowl gritted through his denta, "what did you need, Jazz? I hope whatever it is was worth knocking me from my chair."

Jazz's high-spirited laugh returned and Prowl subconsciously crushed the remainder of his data pad into dust.

"First o' all," Jazz chortled, "I think you may need a processor-scan, Prowl! Ya didn' even twitch when your office open'd!"

Jazz's laughter overtook him as Prowl finally turned to glare at him.

"Hahaha an', AN' I don' recall pushin' ya! Y- Haha- your aft fell out o' the chair on its own! Right ont' the floor- hahaha- ya should'a seen your face man!"

Jazz laughed a bit longer before continuing.

"Priceless! I didn' think ya had it in ya t' look that _spook'd_!"

Prowl grimaced and his doorwings fluttered, still trying to pinpoint Jazz's frame. He was so awfully loud, yet even Prowl's sensitive circuits could not detect a single sound vibration from the mech.

"Perhaps I _wouldn_ 't have been so startled if you didn't keep your defenses up all the fragging time," Prowl muttered to himself.

"Aww c'mon man," Jazz retorted as if Prowl had intended for Jazz to hear his words, "ya know I gotta. Part o' my programmin', and wowwee is it ever hard t' shut the dang things off!"

"That's not... You... Urrrg-"

Prowl's vocal processor cut out from static for a moment before he managed to collect himself. Oh was Jazz ever ANNOYING!

"Why are you here, Jazz," he demanded, trying to keep angry static from his speech, "state your purpose."

Jazz laughed once more, but this time it was softer, more reserved than the previous bouts.

If Prowl hadn't known better, he would have believed Jazz had personality problems akin to the Decepticon Blitzwing. He did know better, however; Jazz's ability and knack for sounding almost completely different from klik to klik was due to his highly specialized and constant training.

Jazz was entirely too irritating to Prowl the majority of the time, but he knew that in order to do what JAZZ did, it required vorns of constant maintenance, countless upgrades, and an ability to adapt to anything. For all his rambunctious behavior and his fairly small size, Jazz was one of the most powerful and deadly bots either side of the war had known.

Prowl was a bit envious of his fellow mech at times, knowing Jazz could adapt to and survive just about anything while Prowl himself struggled to adjust to the smallest change, but the nonchalant manner with which Jazz carried himself and the extremely perilous nature of his missions dampened his envy, that is until Jazz's serious side came into play.

"Right, well seein' as how I jus' returned from ma mission, I thought I'd drop by an' hand in ma reports manually."

Prowl's doorwings flicked up, displaying his gratitude just as much as his system's attempt to locate Jazz.

Registering the small shift, Jazz's obnoxious laugh returned and Prowl's irritation overrode his gratitude.

"Man, ya gotta do somethin' about your security system," Jazz teased gleefully, "cuz those," he pointed a black digit at Prowl's still flared wings, "just ain't cuttin' it!"

Prowl bristled.

"My security system is perfectly sound, Jazz. _Your_ frame is just too cloaked and modified for mine to register it properly."

Jazz's face (or what Prowl could see of it) went eerily blank. The smaller mech's servos then found his hips. Jazz's posture suddenly made Prowl feel much smaller than he should have. His doorwings adjusted uselessly, still trying to pinpoint the threat or target what the rest of Prowl's systems were responding to.

Prowl swore Jazz lifted an optic ridge below his visor.

"Nah, man," Jazz rumbled deeply- confusing Prowl's audials with the sudden change, "you really need to do something about it."

Prowl blinked in confusion.

Jazz shifted uncomfortably and moved his arms to cross over his chassis.

"Prowl," he said in a quiet, but stern tone, "I mentioned earlier that you didn't so much as shift a micrometer when I walked into your office. I didn't mean that you were supposed to pick up on _me_ , but if your systems were functioning properly you would have heard, or _felt_ , your door opening."

Jazz tilted his chin to indicate Prowl's doorwings when he said 'felt', but didn't move otherwise.

Jazz's expression remained cold as he continued, however, Prowl distinctly registered a hint of warmth had crept into Jazz's vocalizations.

"You alright, man?.. Prowl? It's not like you to miss much. How many hours have you been logging lately?"

Prowl switched his attention to his internal timer and was startled to register the high number that greeted him for this orn. Rifling further revealed he had clocked a record number of 'hours' as Jazz put it in the past stellar-cycle as well.

"Uh.."

Prowl's Vocalizer glitched and rendered him speechless.

Jazz simply shook his head, as if he expected Prowl's reaction.

"When was the last time you got a full recharge cycle, " Jazz pried gently, "or did a full maintenance check on yourself?"

When Prowl remained silent, Jazz let out a audible vent.

"When was the last time you saw Ratchet?"

Prowl's doorwings vibrated as his irritation spiked. Annoyed at the involuntarily response, Prowl manually shifted his wings to stick straight out behind him. He knew Jazz would register the sudden move as a defensive gesture, but Prowl didn't care. He wasn't going to get a reading off of Jazz no matter how his wings were situated.

"Just this morning," he snapped, "I asked if he had completed-"

Jazz had moved so quickly Prowl's vocalizer halted. Prowl optics hadn't even registered how or when Jazz's servo had gotten into its current position on his chassis. It was unsettling to say the least.

"That is not what I implied and you know it" Jazz retorted quietly. "When was the last time you visited the medbay for a checkup... And _stayed_ until fully repaired?"

Prowl resisted the urge to expand his wings, optics dimming as his processor relayed his last medbay memory.

"Uh.." His vocalizer glitched again, but Prowl cleared the static quickly. "At least a couple of orns... If not a stellar-cycle.."

Jazz's visor dimmed slightly, not for the first time making Prowl wish he could get the full effect of Jazz's expression.

"Mm... And what did Ratchet say the last time you visited him?"

The warmth fading from Jazz's tone seemed to be transferring directly to Prowl's faceplate.

He remained silent for a few nano-kliks before finally responding quietly.

"He told me I was grinding my gears too hard and overclocking my system too much... He said I needed to get a... hobby."

The last bit of Intel slipped out with Prowl not having intended to relay it. His vocalizer stalled and whined, seeming only to confirm his 'gear-grinding' issue.

Faceplates heating enough that his cooling fans kicked on, Prowl looked away and ran a servo across his neck cables in embarrassment.

Too late he realized he very well could have ignored Jazz's question and opted for giving the special-ops mech the silent treatment. After all, medbay proceedings between mech and medic were classified as private... Yet for some reason, Prowl hadn't hesitated. He had revealed the information to a bot that annoyed and terrified him to the edges of space and back no less... It was no wonder his face was overheating.

A quiet 'hmph' had Prowl's optics flicking back to Jazz to discover the other mech seemed neither annoyed nor pleased. It was confusing to see Jazz so.. Blank after he had specifically requested Prowl's info, and Prowl had to remind himself yet again of Jazz's specialized training. If the smaller mech displayed any emotion at all, it was entirely deliberate, perhaps even forced.

Jazz had both arms firmly crossed across his chassis again though, leading the other to believe Jazz was now the one irritated. So when the special ops mech moved to uncross them a klik later, Prowl visibly flinched.

Optics widening, Prowl then froze. He was giving so much away and was practically malfunctioning. Not at all in control of his actions.

Jazz's visor flickered in response as he unknotted his arms.

"Prowl," he said quietly, a bit of concern edging his words, "I really think you need a checkup man... You're not doin' too good.."

Prowl was about to pop off with an incredulous "I'm fine" when his doorwings registered a few beeps and clicks from his office's control panel while his audial receptors managed to detect corresponding ones from Jazz. He was confused until the overhead lights brightened to 'standard' levels.

Jazz had hacked into the room's system in an attempt to show Prowl something, but it took a nanoclick for him to figure out what. His optics needed to adjust to the extra light. When they did, Prowl was horrified.

It wasn't just the fact that Jazz was standing in the middle of his office scorched and battered, it was also the fact that Prowl had managed to miss the damage entirely while staring right at his comrade.

"How.." Prowl choked around extra static that invaded his vocalizer. Shaking his head and realizing it didn't matter how he had missed it, Prowl gaped and turned on Jazz with renewed annoyance.

"Jazz! What in Primus' name are you _doing_?"

Jazz didn't respond.

"I mean fragging pit! You- you're... Why didn't you go to Ratchet right away?!? What were you-"

Prowl hadn't registered  his own frantic flailing until Jazz caught his wrists and gripped hard, silencing his protests and nearly dropping Prowl to his knees.

"I'm fine Prowl," the black and white mech said, smirk lighting his face, "all damage is superficial... Topside. Nothin' t' be worried about, but I think we really need t' get YOU t' the medbay man, or at least in for a proper recharge. My report can wait."

The report. Prowl's circuits must have fried because he had forgotten all about it. Glancing down at the tiny fragments that had formerly been a datapad, Prowl sighed.

"Yeah... I guess you're right."


	2. Of all the-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl still couldn't shake his embarrassment

It was several orbital cycles later and Prowl  _ still _ couldn't shake his embarrassment.

 

If Ratchet had wanted Prowl to go in _that_ _badly_ , he could have just commend him instead of using bait to tease him out. 

What made it worse was that is actually what had happened.

Jazz really  _ had _ been damaged when he returned from his mission, and he  _ had _ gone to Ratchet right away, par protocol. It was Ratchet who had dispatched Jazz (with topical damage still visible) to Prowl's office specifically to find some way of getting him to go into the medbay without a fight. It was a good thing he had because Prowl had been dangerously close to literally blowing a few fuses and his gears were ground almost to the point of cracking, but he was still peeved about it.

 

Really.. All the grumpy medic had to do was ask, follow code. He didn't need to have another bot's nose stuck in Prowl's personal care. Least of all JAZZ.

Primus he was  _ obnoxious _ . Jazz kept secrets better than any mech... But he was also the source of a great deal of gossip that spread around. There was no doubt in Prowl's processor that a good number of other mechs now knew of his medbay avoidance habits.

 

Prowl pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor and vented harshly. He was supposed to be working on reports... But  _ Pit _ he was having trouble focusing. It was happening more frequently due to his most recent promise to Ratchet, (embarrassingly made in front of Jazz  _ as well as _ the medic)... No pinching cables. 

He could sit however awkwardly he pleased, but he was not allowed to take it far enough to cut off even a single line. 

To make matters worse, he couldn't even break the promise a just little... Ratchet may have believed he had done it once or twice on 'accident', but Jazz knowing about his promise... Jazz, unfortunately, could tell accident from deliberate action better than any bot, and if he felt that a mech, even Optimus's second in command, was doing himself unnecessary damage... Well his word was enough to have said mech admitted to the medbay for primus knows how long. As long as it took to get the mech to stop...

 

Unfortunately Prowl hadn't realized how much he had relied on that alone to maintain focus. As it turned out, it was actually his failsafe. With it gone, so too were his hours upon hours of straight-through work. His everlasting patience wore too thin.

 

Prowl vented again, forcing his optics back to his secondary datapad. He was in danger of overclocking his system again and he knew it, but damn it all he needed to complete his assignments. They were piling up way too quickly with his normal focus techniques gone.... If he didn't know better, Prowl might have thought that his refraining from pinching cables was actually making his gear grinding much worse to make up for the missing stimulation...

 

Prowl's doorwings suddenly twitched and fluttered without his consent, causing the Autobot to growl quietly. 

Wait, surely his systems hadn't reached their limit already!

Offlining his optics, Prowl set down his datapad and rubbed the side of his helm. 

Perhaps he was malfunctioning again... His readings indicated everything was normal... Or at least normal enough. There was an abnormal level of coolant in his system, but that could easily be blamed on the stress his processor alone was experiencing. Or perhaps it was his optics. He did tend to strain those quite a bit more than any other mech would find necessary, especially Ratc-

 

The distinct feeling of a digit running down the glass of a doorwing assaulted Prowl and made his entire frame shudder.

Optics onlined, Prowl turned to discover Jazz was once again standing off to the side behind him.

 

Something threatened to bubble to the surface and make Prowl explode, however, the larger mech forced any and all emotions down. He had to remember who Jazz was- a friend, but also an  _ extremely _ deadly warrior if provoked. It would not be wise to tork his wires.

 

"Jazz," Prowl said in recognition. His tone was as cold as ice par his previous thoughts, despite his sudden forced lack of emotion.

 

Jazz smiled, derma stretching widely across his face.

 

Again Prowl had to squash his flaring emotions back down. Did Jazz have to look so  **smug** ?

 

"What-" Prowl's vocalizer suddenly fuzzed with static and the surprised mech dimmed his optics. Clearing the static as best he could, unaware of what could be causing it, Prowl tried again.

 

"What brings you to my office today, Jazz?" He asked as professionally as possible, voice still slightly fuzzy.

 

Prowl's guest gave him his usual bemused smile.

"Well, not a complete failure today Prowl ma man," Jazz chuckled.

 

Failure?? Prowl's doorwings vibrated harshly before he could stop them, but he managed to keep his lip plates sealed in a fine line, otherwise appearing entirely blank (he hoped).

 

Rolling laughter burst from Jazz as if he couldn't help himself, chestplates heaving from the force of it.

 

"Exactly!" 

Jazz continued to laugh so loud Prowl was forced to adjust the sensitivity of his audials.

 

Prowl's irritation finally managed to bubble through his careful façade and he leveled a glare on Jazz. He had no choice but to wait until the other autobot was finished before he could retort.

Though, even when he did stop laughing, Jazz did not allow Prowl to say anything.

 

"Looks like you're startin' to function a bit better there Prowl ma man," he chimed. "Ya actually twitch'd this time!"

 

Prowl grunted in response, prompting another of Jazz's increasingly familiar laughs.

 

"Lighten up Prowl," Jazz chortled loudly. "Yo-"

 

It was Prowl's turn to interrupt.

 

"NOT that I don't  _ appreciate _ the checkup,  _ Jazz _ ," Prowl veered, "but I have a great deal of work to do. So, if you would  _ kindly _ state your business and be  _ done _ with it I would be  _ most _ appreciative."

 

Prowl could have sworn Jazz's smile twitched slightly, as if the smaller mech was going to respond honestly to Prowl's harsh tone for once... But his comparatively weak optics could have easily played a trick on him.

 

"Aww c'mon man," Jazz said playfully, "why ya gotta be like that? I was just droppin' by t' say hey!"

 

A rising optic ridge greeted Jazz's comment.

 

"... Consider it said, now if you'll excuse me-"

 

Prowl winced despite the lowered sensitivity of his audio receptors as Jazz barked out yet another laugh.

 

"Right, right," he bubbled," I should leave ya to it!"

 

Prowl nodded appreciatively, swiveled his chair back to his desk, and promptly reactivated his data pad. He didn't know if Jazz was on his way out, but Prowl didn't bother to check. If Jazz was going to hang around, he would get bored enough to leave eventually. In the meantime, Prowl had a mountain of work to do.

His wings registering his door sliding open provided Prowl with an answer to his half-proccessed question.

 

"Oh, hey Prowl?"

 

Prowl almost didn't hear Jazz he was so quiet.

Adjusting the sensitivity to his audials, Prowl glanced towards his door, finding Jazz's frame where his wings found nothing.

 

After a moment of staring at the waiting visored mech, Prowl finally responded.

 

"Yes?"

 

Something about Jazz's smile made the military strategist wary. What did he have up his sleeve this time?

 

"Ratchet says he'd like t' see ya ASAP!"

 

With that, Jazz's laughter faded behind the shuttering door and Prowl's anger overwhelmed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackling* GO JAZZ, WOOO!!


	3. Holding Grudges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work is always overwhelming, but it doesn't make him forgive or forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortie chapter!

Several orns had passed and Prowl was growing tired, as were all the Autobots. 

Prowl had forgiven Ratchet for breaking code and dispatching Jazz to fetch him on a few more occasions. It was mainly because the mech's workload had increased tenfold with the ensuing events leading up to the current orbital cycle. Prowl's workload had skyrocketed as well. More often than not, he found himself carrying his datapads with him wherever he went and working in between the neverending chaos, including out on the field. It was rare he actually had a quiet moment in his office anymore with so much to be done and their enemies keeping everyone on the tip of their toe struts.

 

"Fall back! FALL BACK!!"

 

Prowl got the order loud and clear. Narrowly dodging several bolts of pure energy, he launched into his alt mode and regrouped with Jazz's badly damaged squad, taking the lead as he mapped out their escape in his processor.

 

"Wowee are we ever glad t' see ya ma man!"

 

Prowl had forgiven Ratchet... But he wasn't sure he could forgive Jazz.


	4. Cheating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't cheat the system, as they say.

Finally, FINALLY Prowl had time to just sit in his office alone with his work.

No constant alarms blaring, no chaotic dispatches and orders to try and sort through, and thank Primus no explosions and flying bodies.

Prowl was sorry he ever lost patience and focus in this setting. It was pure bliss. Rifling through the choppy formatting and mismatched codes was a more than welcome change.

Prowl had even made sure Ratchet had no further need for any assistance or information before coming here, so he was well and truly alone, left to his little devices and their data.

Jazz had been a nuisance whenever Ratchet needed his expertise and couldn't pause to try and reach Prowl's personal comm channel. He always came in in full stealth mode and snuck up behind Prowl to run a digit over one of Prowl's sensitive doorwings. It was aggravating, unnecessary, and entirely against all military rules, protocols, codes, etc. for him to do that. Yet he always managed it without fail. It really ground on Prowl's patience no matter what mood he had previously been in. It had even started making him a little paranoid. Every time he thought he heard or sensed his door opening his head would snap up and he'd be looking for Jazz's sneaky black and white frame. It had made him unnecessarily short with a few officers (more than normal) on several occasions and he felt a twinge of regret over it...

But this day had been... nice. For some reason their enemies were laying low, possibly just as exhausted and in need of regrouping as much as the Autobots. It meant no one had need to come and bother Prowl. He was relieved, or so he thought.

 

Prowl set his datapad on his desk for the third time. He had worked nonstop for groons, managing to do so even without pinching cables or working his frame into awkward metal knots, but then all of a sudden his focus just... Broke. There was no explanation for it. Nothing about his mood or his office had changed. He'd done several sweeps and even went as far as to pace around his office a few times to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary. Still, when he sat down and tried to work a bit more, everything scattered. He was antsy for some reason. It was as if he was expecting a catastrophe, despite his doorwings tracing nothing out of the ordinary.

 

"Ah, slag," Prowl cursed quietly. It was a lost cause. The data just wasn't as appealing or easy to sort through anymore. 

Silently he turned his attention to his internal clock and discovered it was later than he had initially believed. If he called it quits now, it actually wouldn't do any harm.

Looking at his datapad one last time, Prowl decided that's just what he was going to do. Instead of leaving the device in his desk, however, he placed the datapad in his subspace just in case he wanted to work on it later, and stood to leave his office.

He got to the door before he remembered that his private quarters had been one of several damaged when-

Prowl shook his head. It was best not to think of that.

What he did have to think about though, was where he was going to be staying, and whether or not he needed to visit the wash racks this evening.

Well the matter of quarters had already been settled, Prowl himself had made sure some of the extra berths in guest quarters were available as well as a few in the medbay, but unfortunately none of said rooms had personal wash racks. Even if they had, Prowl would have had to settle disputes as to who got the 'luxury' rooms. That was a headache he was glad not to have to deal with.

 

Double checking his information had Prowl residing in one of the guest rooms until repairs could be completed. Prowl contemplated for a moment before deciding it was better sooner than later to clean the dust and dings from his frame, even if the ship's 'open' wash racks were in the opposite direction from his temporary residence.


	5. Peeping... how Naughty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at titles, so bite me. Prowl gets his due though, don't worry :3

It was fairly late and Prowl had expected to have the area to himself, so he was surprised when he stepped into the large room and felt a warm mist hanging in the air. His doorwings flared subtly to tell him that only one other mech was in the vicinity, however, so he wasn't terribly put off.

 

He figured whoever it was was probably just finishing up too, in all likelihood having gone in after switching shifts on patrol or watch.

 

It had been a while since he'd been to this part of the ship he realized, and Prowl got lost in his thoughts as he gathered up some of the available cleaning materials and moved to try to find a suitable stall. 

The entire area was spotlessly clean, but like every mech, he did have his preference for location, lighting, and other miniscule details. He just had to figure out/remember what they were...

Prowl quietly walked past the one occupied wash rack in his musings, only to suddenly have his processor stall.

 

Jazz?!

 

Prowl's doorwings flared their widest and Prowl caught himself backtracking to stare. 

Oh, that's right... Prowl recalled Jazz's quarters were near to his... So his room had probably been destroyed as well.

 

It was an odd revelation, but not nearly as jarring, Prowl discovered, as his wings actually registering the smaller mech's frame.

He had been so accustomed to never  _ truly _ seeing Jazz. He couldn't help allowing himself a full sensory sweep.

 

Jazz was smaller than Prowl remembered from the days before the Autobot uprising; thinner and not quite as tall as his optics normally registered, but perhaps that was because the special-ops mech was leaning down under the ammoniated spray, his arm his main support.

 

Prowl gaped silently as Jazz stood there, letting the warm spray kiss his frame and leak into his seams to wash away dust and built up grime.

His entire form was an unfamiliar brand of heat across Prowl's sensitive doorwings. Unfamiliar, but oddly captivating. 

Unlike many of their Autobot companions, Jazz was all curves and gentle angles thanks to his many upgrades. Even his back struts curved slightly, giving Jazz a very lithe and delicate appearance. He really was quite handsome for being such a nuisance...

 

It dawned on Prowl that his stare was highly inappropriate and the larger mech shifted. 

 

Before he could stop himself, Prowl blurted, "Evening, Jazz," very loudly, not thinking of how it would startle Jazz.

 

And startle Jazz it did.

 

The last thing Prowl registered before his system went offline was a gasp of pain that wasn't his own.


	6. Ooooww

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooo that's gotta smart :x  
> Peeping is dangerous kids! Stay clean!

Something, or rather some _ one _ was looming over Prowl quite cautiously. Through the feedback his audials were experiencing, he managed to register some speech, but he could not decipher it for how his head was aching. It felt as if he had been rammed full force in the helm by the notorious Devastator himself.

 

More speech clawed at Prowl and his own groan joined the grating sound. 

 

Opening his optics, Prowl managed to see for all of a nano-klik before the light became too much for his system to handle. What he did see only served to confuse his processor and make him certain that Devastor  _ had _ come crashing through the ship solely to bash his helm to pieces. He shuttered his optics quickly as another groan escaped him.

 

Ratchet was there, that much made sense for the amount of pain he was experiencing, but so was Jazz... And he looked... Different. Not wrong persey... But not right either.

 

More speech sounded making Prowl whine at the horrible feedback it produced, though this time he managed to make sense of some of it.

 

He processed the terms "trama", " head", "force-stasis", and "Prowl" before he felt his systems begin to shut down again.

 

Through his screaming processor, Prowl was certain Ratchet was telling him he had been hit in the head and was going to be put under for repairs... That much made sense, yet Prowl, for the sake of his spark, could not figure out why he was lying on the floor of the washroom.. Nor why Jazz suddenly seemed to be the owner of a very proud set of doorwings.. that would have been much prouder had there not been a huge dent in... The.. Right.. One.


	7. Oh Medbay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What-the whozits whatzits... ouch. Don't wake up from forced stasis and try to move. Is bad, m'kay?

Prowl jolted out of recharge much too fast and felt the world tilting. A moment later he felt the cold, hard floor flush against his chassis. He gasped loudly, systems overclocking and repair programs running at full capacity in an attempt to get the strategist to his peds. He felt the distinct energy of Ratchet behind him and yelped louder than he meant to when the medic gripped the paneling of a doorwing.

 

More horrible feedback assaulted his processor from his audials and Prowl drove his servos into the sides of his helm in an effort to stifle it. It worked marginally, at least enough for him to understand what Ratchet was trying to say.

 

"...-wl! You have to stay. STILL."

 

Another muffled voice joined Ratchet's. It took several nano-kliks before Prowl registered it as Jazz's.

 

"Need me t' help ya lift 'im back up?"

 

"No, we've got to get you repaired as well, don't overload your circuits," Ratchet shot to the other mech.

 

"But no one else is around, man," Jazz protested, "and it's only a clip t' tha doorwin', I'll be fine. Ma servos aren't bust'd."

 

Prowl removed his servos from his head, preferring the painful feedback to the confusing and nonsensical conversation his comrades were having.

 

Jazz _didn't_ ** _have_** doorwings...

 

A few more lines of speech passed between Ratchet and Jazz. Prowl did little more than wince quietly. His head was hurting too much for him to be able to figure out how to move, that and Ratchet's servo on his wing actually seemed to be more for keeping Prowl in place than anything else.

 

The sudden appearance of another, much smaller servo on Prowl's doorwing had the autobot shuddering. He hadn't expected it. Being unable to sense the majority of Jazz's presence once more, it confused even his properly functioning circuits. Only his processor knew the servo to belong to Jazz.

 

More audio feedback sounded and Prowl felt extra digits grip the under sides of his arms.

Realizing what his comrades were intending to do, Prowl did his best to get his knees under the rest of him.

 

"Fzzz... Twzzz... ThrezzzZZINGGGG"

 

Static severely distorted the words and a high pitched whine squealed through Prowl's head as he was lifted, but he succeeded in guessing the other two's intent. He forced his peds to push against the floor and to support the rest of his frame temporarily as... Well he wasn't sure what Ratchet and Jazz were doing; he didn't dare unshutter his optics for fear the light would pronounce the ache in his processor. So Prowl stood there momentarily until the two sets of servos shifted and he was being forced backwards onto a berth, probably the same one he had toppled off of.

 

Once settled (there was some mild fussing to ensure he wasn't pinching cables or laying wrong on his doorwings), Prowl did not dare move again. The overhead light penetrated through his shutters painfully, but he didn't attempt to completely offline his optics either. For all he knew, if he did that he could end up blind. At least with the light being painful, Prowl knew he would likely retain his ability to see.

 

Something unpleasantly cold pressed into Prowl's neck cables before penetrating one of the main lines. The patient mech winced slightly, but recognized the feeling as a standard medical procedure. Ratchet was introducing an inhibitor into his system to ensure Prowl did not unexpectedly come out of recharge again. 

A spinning sensation assaulted Prowl as the fluid mixed with his fuel, and before he knew it, his entire world was black.


	8. Recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra-sensitivity really isn't fun, but when half your helm needs to be replaced you just gotta make due.

Prowl's internal alarm woke him as it always did, but for some reason Prowl felt as if it had been going off for cycles instead of just a few nano-kliks. He quickly deactivated the program so he could try and figure out where and what the situation was.

He felt entirely too heavy when he tried to move (likely an after effect of the inhibitor), so the Praxian opted for slowly unshuttering his optics.

Everything was still dark despite his optics working at full capacity. At first Prowl was afraid he  _ had _ lost his sight, though when he managed to shake off the partially forced recharge and blink a few times, he caught a glimpse of another light source. 

Relieved and confused, Prowl carefully turned his head towards the dim glow. He saw the faint light was coming from a monitor that appeared to be relaying his vital signs. It also displayed the time. Prowl's confusion rose. By all accounts, if the monitor was accurate to within at least a few nano-kliks, there should have been more light. It was telling him he had woken up at approximately mid-day, and he doubted it was misprogrammed.

 

A soft beep assaulted Prowl's audio and the Autobot winced in spite of himself. His monitor registered the motion and beeped again, bringing up a well-formatted line of code that Prowl would have been curious about had he not been so bothered by a dozen other question that suddenly bombarded him.

It was obvious he was in a private medbay room, yet he could hardly recall how he had gotten there. 

He remembered seeing Jazz in the wash racks- Prowl's faceplates heated at the thought and his monitor gave a much harsher beep as his punishment- and suddenly being struck with something... And there were fuzzy images and traces of Ratchet in his memory banks... But just what had hit him in the head? And when? It had happened so quickly... The only mech in his vicinity had been Jazz (or rather Prowl was in  _ Jazz _ 's vicinity)... Yet not even Jazz could have turned quickly enough to knock Prowl's lights out without him registering his intention, not at such close proximity. 

It didn't make sense.

A few ideas pinged at Prowl alongside some new and potentially interesting information, but he didn't have time to consider any of them as the "shiff" of a door opening sounded.

 

Light flooded the room momentarily, bouncing off the back wall and into Prowl's optics making them sting. An ache in his processor Prowl hadn't previously noticed made itself known and the Praxian groaned softly, unable to care who it was entering his room that would no doubt hear.

 

"Mm..."

 

It was Ratchet. Prowl would know that grumpy hum anywhere... Though normally the medic was much quieter when he made that specific noise...

 

The light disappeared with another "shiff" and Prowl distinctly heard peds working their way over to him.

Was Ratchet stomping? Or were Prowl's audials just very sensitive all of a sudden?

 

Prowl carefully turned his optics away from where they had previously been admiring his monitor to try and get a visual of the medic. Ratchet worked his way into Prowl's line of sight and the latter was shocked to discover Ratchet was walking as quietly as he could- his posture was actually affected he was trying so hard to keep the sounds he made to a minimum.

 

Ratchet stopped shortly before reaching Prowl's med screen and placed a gentle servo on Prowl's white shoulder.

 

"How are you holding up," the medic asked, his vocal processors hushed.

 

Prowl winced and shuttered his optics against the sound and the sight of Ratchet's bright eyes.

 

"I thought as much," Ratchet whispered before venting. "Quite a knock to the head you got. I had to replace a few circuits and a good part of your helm. It's left you temporarily oversensitive."

 

Prowl grimaced but didn't say anything in return, despite all the questions rattling around under his helm.

 

"So you'll just have to stay here for the time being as your system adjusts," Ratchet said while patting Prowl's joint (much to his audials' discomfort). "It'll take a few solar cycles in all likelihood, so don't strain yourself, alright?"

  
  


A weak nod was all he could manage.

 

Even if he was to recover faster than Ratchet had predicted, Prowl knew it was going to be one long orn.


	9. Recover. Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still sensitive. Still trying to work. Prowl, you're an idiot.

Prowl was grateful Optimus had given some of his workload to another mech while he was still incapacitated, he really was... But Primus whoever it was really could have used little more TACT.

 

It wasn't that the codes and formats were wrong, actually by all accounts they were adequate and wonderfully so, but they were... Odd. 

Whomever had been patching the information was quite intelligent.. And seemed determined to show that off. It had Prowl pinching the bridge of his olfactory sensor more than he would have liked, but he just had to be sure everything was in order. So it was, in between the small bits of overly flamboyant coding.

 

Sighing, the black and white transformer carefully set his datapad to the side. His optics were killing him.

 

Thankfully, Prowl wasn't nearly as sensitive as when he had first been repaired, yet Ratchet had asked him to say in the secluded room for few orbital cycles longer.

 

"You're not quite adapted yet," the medic had told him," you need to be introduced back into the thick of things slowly. If you were thrust into the middle of a battle- heck or even a throng of boisterous minibots- right now your circuits could fry and you'd  _ definitely _ blow a couple of fuses. You don't want to go blind or deaf do ya?"

 

Prowl didn't quite believe that was the case (actually he was pretty sure Ratchet was both trying to get the strategist to take a break and trying to be sensitive to Prowl's need of slow change), but it was a good excuse.  So Prowl had sat or paced quietly in his room, slowly readjusting to light and sound in solitude, working as much as his optics allowed before an ache started in his processor (or until Ratchet interrupted with a meal or demands that he 'put down the technical stuff and recharge like a normal mech').

It was a nice respite of sorts, but even Prowl couldn't handle being cooped up with nothing but his work for so long. The odd coding of half of his usual assignments wasn't helping either.


	10. FREEDOM!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too many exclamation points, the capitalization is wholly unnecessary... but it is the proper sentiment.

A week later and Prowl was actually relieved when Ratchet told him he was good to go.

It had been a slow process, Ratchet first telling him to wander around the medbay a bit... Followed by the nearby halls... And subsequently followed by a trip to his office in the passing cycles. He was always told to return, however, so when Ratchet finally cleared him, Prowl was pleasantly surprised.

 

"The repairs on your quarters are pretty much complete now," Ratchet was saying in a pleased tone, "so you won't have to worry about adjusting to another area... Assuming we don't get bombarded with a full scale assault again..."

 

Prowl nodded quietly. "Understood."

 

"Enjoy your freedom, and you can return to active duty, BUT," the medic warned, "I want you to continue to take it easy. I know you've been feeling fine these past few megacycles, but there is still a chance you could blow a circuit from too much stimulation... Stay away from Blaster at the very least. He's on one of his 'top 40s hits' spree things again."

 

Prowl actually managed to crack a smile, doorwings flicking upwards. "No problem," he said easily. He didn't hang around the rather loud Autobot at all, didn't even know him well enough to call him more than an acquaintance.

 

With that, Ratchet gestured to the medbay door and turned to his other duties. Prowl turned as well and took the opportunity to leave, but not before tossing a grateful, "Thanks Ratchet," over his shoulder.


	11. Wait a Klik....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl is suspicious...

It was.. Quiet. Almost too quiet. Prowl wondered if he had missed something or if he had simply spent too much time in the medbay with all of Ratchet's humming machinery. All he could hear now were the taps his own heel struts made as they connected with the floor. 

For a worrying moment, Prowl thought he might be dreaming. That all changed, however, when he entered the main control room and was assaulted with near the entire crew shouting "SURPRISE" at him.

Prowl dialed down his audio receptors, adjusted the angle of his wings, and smirked. He was genuinely surprised.

 

"Welcome back to the team, Prowl," Ironhide greeted, throwing a heavy arm around Prowl's neck to drag him down a bit. The other present Autobots laughed in unison and each gave Prowl a boisterous welcome themselves.

 

Optimus was the last to give the strategist his welcome, prompting Ironhide to let him go, but not before the red mech gave him a good sparked clap on the shoulder.

 

"It's good to have you back," his leader said to him, "and my apologies for the unwarranted surprise. It was Ratchet's request."

 

Prowl nodded, understanding immediately. While unconventional (and possibly unnecessary as Ratchet was quite thorough in his treatments), the medic knew what he was doing. If Prowl couldn't handle a simple (albeit LOUD) greeting, he certainly shouldn't be wandering about the ship or returning to active duty until he was fully repaired.

 

"Thanks Optimus," he replied, relieved when most of the company seemed to be disbursing. 

 

The prime nodded and gestured to Prowl's usual station before returning to his own. Prowl eagerly reclaimed his position, delighted that he could actually be useful again.


	12. Complacency Will be the Death of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go good, then they can go bad.. or is it so bad?

All in all, it had been another quiet few megacycles and Prowl's processor slipped into a content state. Everything was running smoothly and, dare he say it, efficiently both on and off the battlefield.

The 'battles' themselves were actually nothing more than mild skirmishers, easy to report, easy to file. Cut and dry, just the way he liked it.

The only unfortunate part about having such a light workload was there wasn't much else to hold the Praxian's attention.

It wouldn't have been so terrible, but Prowl was still pretty well set against 'finding a hobby.' His logic chips swore that the minute he found something to occupy his free time, he would no longer have said time and the activity would only prove to be a distraction. Prowl knew himself too well. Having something lying around unfinished would be bothersome, an alert on the back of his processor he wouldn't be able to shut down. That was one of the last things he needed, especially if something requiring focus decided to rear it's head at him.

 

The Praxian huffed quietly, actually feeling a tad bit bored. He'd taken to wandering the ship's halls while he was off duty, or 'patrolling' if you will. It kept him moving, but also allowed him to be nearby in case of a sudden alert or emergency- not that either normally happened at this point in the evening, but it couldn't hurt to be cautious... Could it? 

 

Prowl swiveled, sensors telling him he had been stalking in the direction of the medbay. A force of habit he had apparently picked up from having to spend so much time recovering from... Well he tried not to think on that too much. The details if his accident were unimportant. An accident had happened, Prowl had been repaired and had recovered adequately, Ratchet had filed the report away himself, and no one had been forthcoming with any information on what had caused his injury. They didn't have to be. Prowl didn't care. Or, rather, he didn't  _ want _ to care.

What he  _ did _ care about at the moment was staying  _ out _ of the medbay, and preferably far away from it. The last thing he wanted was Ratchet's disapproving glare and the suggestion of hobbies leveled on him once again. At such a late point in the evening, that was highly likely if the medic saw him, so Prowl really needed to get out of the area.

Huffing one more time, the strategist decided it was probably best if he returned to his quarters. A little extra recharge while he could get it might do him good, and it was better than his useless wandering. 

' _ Nothing is going to go wrong, _ ' he told himself in an attempt to pacify his logic circuits. ' _ Too many Autobots (and in all likelihood, decepticons) are in lowered states of activity... _ '

 

Prowl pulled out of his head just in time to round a corner and run straight into another mech. His faceplate slammed into a helm as the rest of his frame dropped on top of whoever it was with crushing force. An odd sound, like an activated switch assaulted him before they hit the ground, but Prowl ignored it in favor of trying to catch himself.

 

"Ah slag,  _ slag _ sorry! I didn't- sorry! Let me just-"

 

Prowl winced both in pain and in embarrassment as he tried to detangle his and the other Autobot's entwined limbs. His doorwings adjusted frantically as he tried to balance his weight.

 

How in Primus' name had he missed the other bot's presence?? And  _ frag _ it would have been  _ easier _ to figure out which limbs where his if the other's weren't  _ painted in the same damn colors _ !

 

Wait.

 

Prowl's vocalizer squeaked without his telling it to and he shoved himself away as quickly as he could.

 

' _ Slag, SLAG! Please don't be.. Please don't be- _ '

 

"Jazz!"

 

Prowl's vocalizer blew from the strain of two conflicting orders. He hadn't meant to say anything more, but his shock overrode the thought.

 

Coughing and keeping his optics low, Prowl stumbled further away, unsure of what sort of reaction to expect from the specialized mech. When nothing was immediately forthcoming, Prowl took the risk and glanced up as subtly as he could manage. 

His jaw proceeded to drop open in shock.

 

"Ah frag me rollin'!"

 

Jazz was now standing, but had twisted slightly, giving Prowl a full view of one magnificent doorwing. The Praxian's systems completely stalled as he watched the other Autobot struggle to reach something on his back, in between his afore mentioned,  _ nonexistent _ wings.

 

But.. Jazz  **_didn't have_ ** doorwings!

 

Prowl felt his circuits start to scramble in an attempt to make sense of what he was seeing, and a lock Prowl had manually placed over a part of his memory banks long ago suddenly broke open under the stress, flooding the Praxian with vorns upon vorns of forgotten information. One such bite of data was the (now obvious) fact that, yes, Jazz DID have doorwings... And the reason(s) why so few knew (or in Prowl's case  _ remembered _ ) this.

 

"Ah! There ya are, ya fraggin'..."

 

Jazz managed to reach whatever it was he had been after (a specialized switch, Prowl realized) and let out a relieved sigh. He activated it and the same ' _ whoosh-click _ ' Prowl had ignored previously sounded again, this time in reverse as Jazz's doorwings folded  _ in _ to a rather large subspace pocket instead of out of it.

 

Prowl tried to say something on impulse, but only succeeded in coughing as his damaged vococorder shorted out. His servo flew to his neck on instinct, despite him knowing there was nothing he could do.

 

Jazz glanced over at him, the lower half of his face a careful mask. 

 

"Ay, watch where-"

 

Prowl dropped to one knee under that gaze. He remembered... Remembered too much.

 

Jazz's face softened, if only on a microscopic level.

 

"Oh, hey Prowl... You okay, man?"

 

The strategist couldn't move. He felt as if his frame was melting into the floor. His cooling fans whirring on their highest setting only amplified the feeling as he continued to stare, open mouthed at Jazz.

Said mech was starting to look genuinely concerned.

 

"Prowl...? Say somethin' man..."

 

Prowl snapped his mouth shut and allowed (or actually more felt) his arm drop away from his neck, revealing the damage he had sustained.

 

Jazz's concern must have skyrocketed for his entire body visibly tensed.

 

"Uh, that... That don' look so good... We should.. Ya should go see Ratchet..."

 

As Prowl nodded in a robotic manner, he became aware of the strangest sensation. It felt as if something was trickling from his olfactory sensor.

Reaching up with gargantuan effort, Prowl brushed his servo under his nose and, upon looking down, discovered he was indeed leaking energon. He must've rammed his face into Jazz harder than his systems initially registered.

 

Audials detecting motion caused Prowl to look up. Jazz was warily moving closer to him.

 

Everything stalled again, his processor overclocking in an attempt to separate memory from reality.

 

"Prowl.. ?"

 

Prowl forced his optics to focus on Jazz with a considerable amount of effort.

 

"Prowl? You okay?... C'mon man, don't pass out on me again. C'mon.. Stay with me."

 

Pass out? Confused, the Praxian tried to lean back, away from Jazz's reaching servos. He discovered, however, his equilibrium had been affected by the sudden jolt, making him very dizzy.

Prowl's world spun as he fell forward, right into Jazz's arms. He immediately tried to counter and wrench himself away from the contact, but nothing was responding. He didn't even have control over the shaky vent his system released.

 

"Prowl! C'mon.. Stay with me! ... Jeeze man, wha'd ya do? Your head's smokin'!"

 

If he could have chuckled, he would have. Prowl opted for allowing his systems to shut down instead, in spite of Jazz's many protests.

 

"Woah, WOAH man! Prowl, oh no, wake up!  _ Frag _ ... can I get a hand over here?!"

 

Prowl's optics offlined before he could get a visual on who it was Jazz was shouting to.

The last thing he registered before the rest of his systems followed suit was the sound of peds rushing over and two separate distinct energies brushing against his wings.


	13. Do Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little blurbs come through... it's not much but, again, at least he isn't deaf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortie Chapter!!

"Oh Primus...  _ What did I tell you _ ?!"

 

"I know I know, look man I haven't seen 'im sin...."

 

...

 

"...gonna be alright?"

 

"Yeah, he'll be just fine. Fragging  _ coghead _ if I ever knew one, though. What kind of mech installs memory inhibitors anymore?"

 

"... I might be able t' explain that one."

 

"Do tell."


	14. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medbay... Again. Why is it every time he runs into Jazz this is where he ends up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think something my have happened to my font halfway through... Let's see if Archive can fix it.

Humming. That was the first thing Prowl recognized. It was quiet, but his previous stay in the medbay had actually served to sensitize him to it. 

 

Medbay... Prowl groaned quietly. Back again. He had  _ just _ been released. At least his vocal components had been repaired already. Hopefully that meant a shorter stay than previous.

 

"Ah, welcome back."

 

Well, at least this time there wasn't a jarring amount of pain in response to noise.

Prowl onlined his optics and was greeted with Ratchet's ' _ I could kill you, but I'm too damn amused _ ' look.

 

"Ratchet," he acknowledged, somewhat surprised his systems appeared to be responding normally.

 

A humorless laugh had Ratchet moving away from Prowl's side.

 

"You're damn lucky you know that? And pretty damn stupid."

 

Prowl felt a smirk cross his derma.

 

"He asked me to."

 

Ratchet shifted.

 

"Eh? Oh... Right. Yeah, Jazz told me all about that."

 

His smirk falling, Prowl tried to get a visual on the medic, turning his head in the direction he had stalked off. He found him easily enough, slumped over as he was- pinching his olfactory sensor in an effort not to grit his denta.

 

"What gets me," Ratchet ground out," is the fact that you actually  _ agreed _ ."

 

Prowl laughed without being able to stop himself.

 

"Yeah, well..."

 

Ratchet huffed and made his way back over to Prowl's berth.

 

"Well nothing. You are  _ not _ doing that again. Not on my watch. Primus, I knew  _ something _ was off every time you came in here, circuits scrambled and fried over the simplest things... But I didn't think.."

 

The medic scowled and rapped his servo angrily on Prowl's helm.

 

"No. Ya got that?  _ NO _ . I don't care who or what it's for. No more-"

 

Prowl caught Ratchet's servo easily before he managed to move it back to his side.

 

"-No more inhibitors, I know.

It wasn't actually an inhibitor though, more of a lock.. An extra program, if you will."

 

Ratchet bristled uneasily at the contact Prowl had initiated, but otherwise let it slide.

 

"Ah," he replied coldly," that would explain why you're still functioning. "

 

Prowl barked out another laugh as he nodded and let the mech's servo go.

 

After a few kliks of silence while Ratchet looked over his datapad, he finally relaxed a bit, allowing some warmth creep into his vocalizations.

 

"So... You build the program yourself?"

 

The Praxian found himself nodding yet again.

 

"With help, yes. It took an orn or so, but we managed to write the code and implant it in a cortex or two.."

 

Ratchet jolted straight.

 

"You did the same thing to other mechs??"

 

"Much to my regret, yes," Prowl sighed. "There were a few others. As far as I know, though, they were all offlined vorns ago. Jazz and I are the last left that are aware this happened... Jazz was supposed to be the only one of our original group without the patch, lock, or whatever you want to call it."

 

"I see... Jazz informed me that was when you stepped down."

 

It was Prowl's turn to jolt. He calmed quickly though.

 

"Yes sir... I was... Needed elsewhere.... I didn't expect to encounter Jazz ever again after that... But as the war progressed..."

 

Prowl burst into near-hysterical laughter, getting nothing but a raised optic ridge as a reply.

 

"Haha I suppose," Prowl continued as he got a hold on himself, "that fate has a way of shoving some mechs back together..."

 

The silence was deafening as Prowl fell quiet, many thoughts sluggishly bouncing around inside his head. He really could have phrased that better.

 

"Indeed..."

 

A quiet vent was all the warning Prowl had before Ratchet was back to looming over him, a little light in his servo this time. Prowl forced himself to stay still as the medic shined the light through his optics and then proceeded to tap the end of Prowl's nose with it.

Prowl winced lightly. For some reason his sensory net had tingled unpleasantly at the contact.

 

"Hmm... You snapped a small line crashing into Jazz like that. Your repair systems should have taken care of it by now..."

 

Prowl forced his arms against his sides, gritting his denta as Ratchet stooped to get a better look. It  _ was _ a bit peculiar.

 

"Ow!"

  
  


Prowl was a more than a little surprised to find Ratchet pinned to the medberth under his servos. His olfactory sensor was still stinging from Ratchet's second clumsy prod, so by all accounts the medic should have been standing... Right?

 

"Oh, uh... Sorry?"

 

He let up on the Ratchet's shoulders and followed by offering a servo to help him back to his peds.

His processor was still a bit sluggish so it took him an extra nano-kilk to figure out why Ratchet was smirking as he took the offered help.

 

Prowl narrowed his optics at his fellow Autobot.

 

"Y-.... You did that on purpose?"

 

The medic's smirk transformed into a good-natured grin.

 

"I thought as much."

 

Something clicked into place inside Prowl's head and several more bits of previously lost information bombarded him while Ratchet spoke.

 

"Your 'patch' put a dampener on your old training, but it couldn't erase it fully from your circuits. I think your system is still trying to adjust to and repair pathways that are no longer blocked."

 

"Mm," Prowl agreed quietly.

 

Back on his peds, Ratchet shook his head.

 

"If my calculations are correct... You should be 'fully operational' again within a couple of orbital cycles."

 

Prowl rubbed his nose gently, surprised at how overly sensitive it was, ignoring Ratchet's comment.

 

"Damn," he muttered. "Primus that kills..."

 

"In the meantime," Ratchet interrupted, "I think I am going to have you stay off duty."

 

That got Prowl's attention.

 

Gaping in disbelief he asked, "What?! Why? I just got  _ back _ ."

 

"I know," the medic chuckled," but really, Prowl, you need to take some time to recover properly. I shouldn't have let you work while you were in here before, so I am requesting your complete absence from the team temporarily."

 

Prowl sputtered, fumbling for a valid protest. Ratchet stopped him with an upraised digit.

 

"Uh-uh. Doctor's orders. You've been overdue for a vacation anyhow," he said incredulously.

 

"V-vacation," Prowl stammered back," what in Primus' good name... You are  _ aware _ we are in the middle of a  _ war _ ??"

 

Ratchet snorted.

 

"Heh, of course, been at it for centuries and doesn't look like we're going to stop anytime soon. May as well take breaks when you can, Prowl. Ease the systems for a bit, prevent burnout. I've taken one or two myself this past vorn."

 

Ratchet tapped his chin thoughtfully before turning away. 

 

"That's the nice thing about having someone around for backup.."

 

Prowl vented harshly, the closest thing he was willing to give to a defeated sound. He may have been one of the most stubborn mechs on the ship, but Ratchet was one of the few who beat him in that regard. The old medic didn't take slag from anyone, not even Optimus.

 

"Fine," Prowl gruffed, trying not to sound like a pouting sparkling, "a vacation then... But may I ask who will be filling in my absence so I know what to expect when I return? Jazz?"

 

Ratchet barked out a laugh.

 

"Nah, not Jazz. I'm actually ordering some leave for him as well."

 

Prowl's optics flashed brightly as he stared at Ratchet.

 

"What," he forced around shocked static,"why?" 

 

Laugh returning, the medic cast an amused glance in Prowl's direction.

 

"I think you can wager a pretty accurate guess, Prowl," he chided. "I imagine there is a lot you two need to catch up on..."

 

The way Ratchet said that had Prowl's faceplate heating. He had obviously talked to Jazz about more than just business. That or Ratchet had deduced quite a bit from his countless encounters with the two of them, even with Prowl's lock in place.

 

"I... I see," he said quietly. Primus, why did his fans click on?? They were incredibly quiet, but in the hushed environment of the medbay the sound was still obvious.

Prowl cleared his Vocalizer, trying to ease his the awkwardness of the involuntary action. Ratchet's only response was to raise an optic ridge.

 

"I-I'd imagine this is to go into effect immediately?" 

The black and white mech stammered, grasping at any chance he had to escape. After all, he  _ did _ have quite a bit he wanted to talk with Jazz about.

Prowl was grateful when Ratchet ignored the click and whirr of his fans moving to a higher setting.

 

"Yes. Immediately, but there are a few arrangements to make- depending on whether or not you choose to stay on the ship. If you do, I need your word that you will not try to return to active duty until I deem you fit to do so- and if you can't grant me that, we will have to find another alternative to keep your nose out of the happenings around here- outside of the ones necessary to your recovery and function of course."

 

Prowl nodded. 

"That sounds... Reasonable."

 

He thought for a moment before offering, "It shouldn't be a problem, no matter how Jazz responds."

 

"Hmm? How so?"

 

Ratchet leveled a serious expression on the Praxian as his fans whirred steadily, though it wasn't his harshest. He knew Prowl. He'd keep to his word/orders as best he could. Prowl still shifted under his gaze, obviously a little uncomfortable.

 

"Just for confirmation references, Prowl," Ratchet breathed. "I just need to be certain your logic is sound- none of it leaves the medbay unless under strict protocol, unlikely to be put into effect."

 

Nodding once more Prowl relaxed his doorwings, finally allowing them to droop from their tense, flared position.

 

"I will stay or leave depending on Jazz," he said, fans stuttering. "If he responds positively, I will have suitable distraction aboard or off ship and should not be a hinderance either way... If he responds negatively, I will take my leave of the ship and return with approval from whatever qualified medic is nearest my, er... vacation destination."

 

"Mm... Alright, Prowl. That is sufficient."

 

The medic nodded, typing away on his data pad. Prowl watched him quietly, moving to sit on the edge of the medbearth for the medic's final say. With his repair systems running on their highest setting, there was a chance Ratchet might wish for him to stay nearby for a little while.

 


	15. What does Time do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooo dis gon be goooood...   
> Prowl liiiiiikes Jazzzzz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild fluff and kissing.

Prowl was surprised to be released with nothing more than a simple 'be careful' from Ratchet regarding his sensitive nose, but he didn't think too much on it. His first order of business was to go and seek out Jazz. Or was it to go and be sure arrangements had been made for his absence? Surely he should drop by and talk to Optimus? Brief him in the newest developments? He wasn't even sure where Jazz might be or if Ratchet had already pulled Jazz from his duties or not.

Prowl manually fluttered his doorwings, trying to get a bearing. 

His internal argument was apparently leading him towards Jazz's room, so he sighed and went with it.

There was no harm in checking to see if he was in.

 

Prowl stood in front of the door for a moment, unsure how to announce his presence, assuming Jazz was even in there. He had the thought to hack into the panel and make the door open for him (thanks to his reintegrating special ops programming), but thought better of it. Opting for a more subtle approach would be best, especially concerning Jazz. Even if he wasn't in there, he was sure to have at least one backup security measure.

Prowl buzzed the private com in favor of knocking. There was no sound from the room, but that meant nothing. Jazz had always been the best of the best, which is why Prowl had left his post to the slightly younger mech in the first place. He was often stealthy without realizing it, hence his usually boisterous (and loud) speech. It allowed a 'heads up' so to speak so others would not be startled.

Prowl rose his servo to buzz again when the door slid open, revealing a smirking Jazz. It seemed he had been expected.

 

"Doc-bot let ya out eh?"

 

Prowl willed his wings to stay still. He hadn't considered his awful subconscious habit to get a read on Jazz before coming here, nor had he factored in his rediscovered and mildly intense fascination with the saboteur. 

 

"Indeed," he grumbled, composing himself before his optics started to wander, "and I wondered if I might have a word?"

 

"Sure! C'mon in!"

 

Jazz waved Prowl after him. 

 

Once inside, Jazz promptly plopped down on a custom looking couch and motioned for Prowl to do the same. It was a little jarring, seeing the comfortable furniture in Jazz's room. Prowl himself had the same sized space, but his was furnished sparingly, with only a small table and two straight-backed chairs in case he had company. It made sense though, Jazz was a much more social bot. It was likely he often hosted company, be it due to his natural charm or his willingness to listen and help with any sort of problem. The use of his space reflected it very well.

 

Prowl eased his frame down gently, trying to maintain an air of professionalism despite the random pulses he had started to feel in his spark. It had been such a long time since he had really  _ seen _ Jazz. Would he still feel the same?

 

"Hey, man," the smaller mech chuckled, "lighten up! Chillax, I'm not gonna bite'cha!"

 

"Mm," Prowl hummed back, sounding almost disappointed. 

 

A small, awkward silence stretched.

 

"You alright, Prowl? I wasn't sure how ya'd be fairin' after the.. Uh.."

 

Prowl almost giggled, doorwings perking straight up. Damn. The strain of so many returning memories must have activated his humor center. He was suddenly very glad for Ratchet's ordered time off, but that just brought him back to his own questions.

 

"How.. How do we stand, Jazz," he asked quietly, traces of humor fading as fast as they had arrived. ((Can anyone say mood swings??))

 

The other mech dimmed his visor momentarily, and Prowl recognized the gesture as a slow blink.

"Well.. All thin's consider'd..."

 

Jazz shrugged, apparently at a loss for the right words.

 

Prowl nodded, understanding despite the unfinished thought. 

"It's been a long time," he said patiently, "I don't expect things to be exactly like they were, but... There are some... Some things that didn't go away."

Jazz gave another slow blink

 

Prowl thought for a nano-klik before hastily adding, "For myself, I mean. And I do not expect..."

 

He swallowed, finding his processor a bit scrambled. An old memory, one of Jazz beaming happily before the installation of his visor, had just bombarded him.

"I-I don't expect..."

Jazz had asked for so much to be locked away- to make the job and separation easier on Prowl, but now it made him wonder if Jazz had ever  _ really _ felt the same as he had. Jazz had retained all of his memories for millions of years after Prowl's were locked away. And he had since made new ones- no doubting that. Prowl had too.

Perhaps he was tipping an empty cube due to the old memories being forcefully brought to the forefront of his processor.

 

He vented harshly, blurting, "I don't expect reciprocation," as quickly as he could.

"I am... Aware much time has passed and you and I have had time to grow beyond... What we.. Had..."

 

Prowl struggled to phrase it right. He didn't want to dump everything on Jazz all at once, especially seeing as how he might not even know what the frag Prowl was going on about, but he couldn't just leave it either. His fondness for Jazz had always been present- even if he hadn't realized as such for the longest time- possibly a residual side effect of the lock. It may have trapped Prowl into a cycle of pining for an early, but long since dead relationship.

Perhaps coming to Jazz first had been a bad idea.

 

A light chuckle pulled Prowl from his head. 

Jazz's cheeks were flushed a barely visible pink and the Praxian had no idea why. It was his turn to grow concerned.

 

"Um.. Are  _ you _ alright, Jazz?"

 

The saboteur laughed.

 

"Yep! Ne'er been better! Though ya might want t' reign yourself in there Prowl ma man! I thought we were s'posed ta be havin' a discussion."

 

Confused, Prowl stalled a moment before he had a mind to check his em field. He was horrified to discover he had subconsciously extended it to wrap around Jazz's invisible form in a very intimate manner, caressing the lithe curves in an.. 'appreciative' way. He knew he must have done it as his thoughts took that precarious turn towards his deeper feelings.

Prowl hastily pulled it back, energon pooling to warm his own faceplate.

 

"My apologies, I-I didn't realize.."

 

He was making an absolute fool of himself. It was unlikely even his logic chips could help him find a way to salvage the situation now. At least Jazz didn't seem terribly perturbed, in fact he seemed more amused than ever.

 

A genuine, warm laugh made it's way from Prowl's companion.

 

"Ah, Prowl," Jazz managed," you're so slaggin' CUTE when you're fluster'd!"

 

Once more confused, the Praxian did little more than stare. Jazz chuckled again and, to Prowl's shock, leaned closer. 

They weren't far apart to begin with, so the deliberate motion caused Prowl's warning sensors to ping at him. Jazz was not a bot who got close unless he was going to lay another out on the floor, likely offline.

Prowl started to adjust in anticipation. He was narrowing his optics just as Jazz's field suddenly reached out and stroked sensually against his frame.

Everything scattered, Prowl's doorwings vibrated, and he shuddered, faceplates heating further. 

Was Jazz toying with him? That wasn't  _ usually _ his style. But, then again, times had changed.

Jazz's lip plates crashing into his own had Prowl's defenses reactivating before he could process and shut them down. 

They were a tangle of limbs and quiet grunts for several nano-kliks, but the kiss wasn't broken until Prowl finally managed to reign in his instinctive retaliation.

Jazz had locked their servos together and was smirking as Prowl finally managed to pull away.

 

"Ha, you're outta practice ya oldtimer."

 

Prowl grimaced, and then, much to Jazz's surprise, laughed out an affirmative noise.

 

"Eyep. Lock's do that... Think you're up for some training?"

 

Prowl didn't wait for Jazz to answer, instead he leaned forward and ghosted his derma over the saboteur's. 

_ He _ still couldn't get a proper reading with all of Jazz's online stealth equipment, even at such close range, but he knew Jazz could read  _ him _ all too well. 

 

"Jazz," he purred, gripping hard at the other's servos.

He had plenty of time to react, to pull away, to argue, to shove a concealed blade against Prowl's neck cables, but he didn't. Jazz stayed wonderfully, undeniably still. And he was  _ choosing _ to, that was the amazing thing. Letting Prowl get close. The thought sent another shudder through his doorwings which flared uselessly, seeking out the heat the other frame should have been producing if he reciprocated Prowl's interest.

Jazz did audibly intake, though, at the sensation of glossa trailing up his neck cables.

Prowl grinned. 

"Didn't expect  _ that _ did you?" He teased softly.

They were another tangle of limbs, Prowl trying in vain to catch or swat away servos that were no longer there, until Jazz was lying under Prowl in a  _ very _ prone position.

The Praxian gaped in shock.

 

"Didn' expect that, did ya?" He purred right back, engine revving (albeit quietly). 

Prowl shook his helm.

No, he hadn't expected this. Jazz was always, always in control, even if it didn't seem like it. Him giving himself over to another bot was entirely unheard of (his exploits and nights with other bots were hardly anything secret. Jazz was a fantastic lover, but always on top). For Jazz to be suggesting... His position was...

Prowl's processor stalled again. Jazz waited patiently as the other mech churned through what was happening.

Everything was so new, yet so familiar. 

Slowly, Prowl allowed his elbow joints to bend until his chassis rested on the deceptively strong one beneath him.

Jazz smiled gently. Prowl almost felt it was meant to reassure him, as if Jazz could read his sudden questions to his sanity and consciousness.

 

As far as he knew, Prowl was one of the very lucky few that had ever been allowed to see and explore every inch of Jazz in the past, but there were new upgrades galore, so much more to explore and learn…

 

Just as soon as whomever was pinging Jazz was taken care of...


	16. Finally!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What to do about all these old/new memories... Well have a honeymoon of course!  
> Wait.. what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortie chapter!!

In the end, after heavy discussion with the rest of their team, Prowl and Jazz had decided they would stay on earth, but separate from the rest of the Autobots. There was much needing attention for themselves, but they also felt obligated to be nearby in case of an emergency.

 

A small debate started on where they would go, but to everyone's shock, Bluestreak was gracious enough to offer up a little hideaway of his about a day's drive from the ark, fortified and free of Autobot and Deception activity alike.

Both Prowl and Jazz were shocked he had a private getaway spot that they never knew.about, but were grateful all the same when he barged in to their discussion and dropped that bomb on them. A welcome surprise.

  
  
  


Prowl was all set and packed about an hour before Jazz was, but he had always been efficient, so he couldn't say he was surprised.

He was content to wander and find Bluestreak to triple check the directions and then thank him. He and Jazz had offered him easy thank yous towards his offer immediately, but Prowl really wanted to hammer in just how grateful he was. Things could not have fallen into place better. Bluestreak had really come through, all of their company had.

Optimus had arranged for Ironhide to step in Prowl's place, and he couldn't have asked for a better bot for the job. Mirage and cliffjumper had both volunteered in taking Jazz's work while they were away as well- which sort of put it in perspective just how important Jazz was as a whole. He did much more work than many gave him credit for due to his 'hip’ and 'carefree’ demeanor. It made prowl a little anxious to get back, but also excited to be getting to spend time with just Jazz. Just Jazz.

  
Prowl found himself sighing fondly at the idea. It had been such a long time for his memories… but he no longer had to wait.. not more than a day's drive anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could technically be the end... I have ideas for smut, but we'll see.. :x
> 
> Wanna help me out? Drop me a line on Tumblr and I'll happily send you what I've got so far.  
> ending-to-begin.tumblr.com
> 
> Wanna help even more? Send me a coffee!!  
> Ko-fi.com/endingtobegin
> 
>  
> 
> Neither work for you?  
> Kudos give me life <3 <3 <3


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